


Suspicious Package

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Mentioned nudity, Nudity, One Shot, Partial Nudity, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:54:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Stiles gets called out to a shoplifting incident but the man accused is adamant that he hasn’t stolen anything.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 377





	Suspicious Package

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveyProphet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveyProphet/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Lovey! ❤

The police cruiser pulled into the parking lot out the front of the store, shifting the gear into park and before grabbing the radio. “Dispatch, show us at location and responding.”

Stiles followed his lead, pushing the door open and stepping onto the sidewalk. They stepped into the store where the manager and a clerk stood at the counter, looking pretty aggressive towards the man who stood with them at the counter.

The man had short raven-black hair and stunning aventurine-green eyes that shifted colours in the light—turning a rich green, hazel, clear peridot, and sky blue. He was dressed in a grey-blue Henley, jeans and a worn black leather jacket. A pair of aviator sunglasses were hooked onto the collar of his shirt, pulling it down just enough to show a glimpse of his dark chest hair.

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat. He swallowed hard as he glanced away from the man, looking at the manager who stood nearby.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Stiles asked, keeping his voice calm and level.

“This man’s trying to steal my goods,” the manager said harshly.

“I haven’t stolen anything,” the man replied, his voice calm and level.

Stiles blinked in surprise. He expected the man to be aggressive—defensive—but his deep, husky voice didn’t hold the slightest hint of irritation or anger.

“Sir, what’s your name?” Parrish asked.

“Derek,” the man replied. “Derek Hale.”

“Mr Hale, would you kindly empty your pockets?” Parrish asked.

Without hesitation, Derek dug into his jacket pockets and emptied them onto the floor of the store—an old phone that was battered and worn, a wallet, keys, and an empty gum wrapper. He turned his pockets inside out to prove they were empty.

Parrish nodded.

“He’s stashing it in his pants,” the manager argued, pointing at the notably large bulge in Derek’s pants.

Parrish turned to Derek. “We’d like to pat you down.”

Derek nodded.

Stiles turned to the manager. “Is there a bathroom or a staff break room—somewhere private we could use?”

“The break room’s through there,” the cashier said, pointing to a door next to the counter.

“Thank you,” Stiles said quietly. “Deputy Parrish will take your statement and your details. Mr Hale, if you’d come with me.”

Stiles gestured towards the door.

Derek made his way over to the break room door.

Stiles pushed it open and let the man step inside before following and locking the door behind them.

“Could you please raise your arms,” Stiles said, pulling on a pair of gloves—as was procedure.

Derek did as he was told, holding his arms out to the side so that Stiles could pat down his sleeves, waist and the legs of his pants.

He could feel the man’s firm muscles, even beneath his clothing.

Stiles took a step back, turning to face the man. He looked at him apologetically.

“You want me to take my pants off,” Derek said, knowing what came next.

“I’m sorry, but yes.”

Derek nodded understandingly and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down to his knees. A bright red blush coloured his face as he tried to avoid eye contact with Stiles.

“Superman,” Stiles muttered, looking at the bright red and blue underwear Derek wore. “I’m more of a Batman guy myself.”

Derek let out a quiet laugh, the tension in the room easing a bit.

Stiles knelt before Derek, running his hand up the man’s inner thighs and around his waist. He sat back on the balls of his feet, looking up at Derek.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Derek muttered, reading Stiles’ expression. He wasn’t irritated or angry, just shocked.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said quietly.

“Okay,” Derek uttered. He swallowed hard and lowered his underwear.

Stiles blinked in surprise.

“Very well,” Stiles said, rising to his feet.

“You can get dressed Mr Hale,” he said, pulling off his rubber gloves and tossing them into the trash can by the door. “I sincerely apologise for everything that has happened. If you’d like to follow up with any complaints, please feel free to do so.”

“I have no complaints,” Derek replied, buttoning up his jeans and straightening out his clothes. “I’d rather just forget that this happened at all.”

“Off the record, you have nothing to be shy about,” Stiles said, offering Derek a kind smile. “When you’re ready, we can go back out.”

Derek nodded.

Stiles unlocked the door and opened it, waving Derek through before stepping back into the store.

Parrish put his notebook away in his belt as he looked up at Stiles.

“What’s the verdict?” Parrish asked.

Stiles looked at the store owner. “Unless you sell roosters here, he hasn’t stolen anything; the only thing in his pants is a ten inch cock.”

Parrish blinked in surprise, looking over Stiles’ shoulder at Derek.

A soft blush coloured Derek’s cheeks as he bit into his lip and bowed his head slightly.

“Well then,” Parrish said, unsure what to say next. “We’d like to apologise for any inconvenience and invasion of privacy you may have experienced today. I’m glad we could get this matter settled.” He nodded politely to Derek before turning to the manager. “If there is nothing else, we hope you have a good day.”

Stiles nodded curtly to everyone before following Parrish out of the store. He climbed into the patrol car and buckled up his seat belt, still fighting the smirk on his lips.

Parrish started the car, letting the rumble of the engine muffle his voice as he turned to Stiles. “ _Ten inches_?”

“At least,” Stiles said, unable to hold back his smirk.

“Did you get his number?” Parrish asked, shifting the car into reverse and pulling out of the parking lot.

“I didn’t think it was right to ask a guy for his number when he’s got his pants down,” Stiles replied.

“Fair enough,” Parrish said. He glanced over at Stiles. “What?”

“What?” Stiles repeated back, his brows knitted together in confusion.

“You’re smirking,” Parrish pointed out.

“Ten inches,” Stiles muttered, “and that’s not what got my attention.”

“Oh?”

“His eyes,” Stiles whispered. “He had the most mesmerising, stunning green eyes.”

Parrish let out a quiet chuckle. “You’re a romantic, Stiles.”

The police station was quiet.

Stiles sat at his desk, filling out the reports from the incidents earlier that day and catching up on paperwork that had been stacking up on his desk.

“Stilinski,” one of the deputies called from across the bullpen.

Stiles dragged his hands down his face as he looked up.

“Someone here to see you,” the deputy said, nodding towards front desk.

“Bring them in,” Stiles said, making a weak waving gesture. He caught a glimpse of Parrish’s face as the man tried to smother a smile.

He looked up again, rising from his seat as he met the man’s gaze.

“Mr Hale,” Stiles greeted, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Please, call me Derek,” the man replied.

“Derek,” Stiles corrected, gesturing for Derek to take a seat before sitting down himself. “What can I do for you?”

“This is a casual visit,” Derek said, a soft blush coloured Derek’s cheeks as he struggled to find his words. “I, um… I usually know someone a lot better before they get on their knees in front of me.”

Stiles burst out laughing, clamping his hand over his mouth as he fought to smother his laughter.

“I’d like to rectify that,” Derek offered. “Say… dinner, tonight?”

Stiles bit into his bottom lip, smiling. “Sound great.”

“What time do you get off?”

“My shift finishes at seven,” Stiles answered.

“Then I’ll pick you up at seven?” Derek offered, rising from his seat.

Stiles stood up too. “I’ll see you then.”

Stiles watched as Derek left, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

He sat back down at his desk again, looking across the bullpen to where Parrish sat at his desk, snickering.

“Shut up, Parrish.”

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
